


What makes a monster

by Fea2781



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, But I think I have all the triggers covered, Everything happy has left the chat, I mean it's WW2 what are you expecting?, Im hoping I don't scare too many people away with those tags, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, It's all just mentioned really, Mentioned Cannibalism, Multi, Sunshine And Rainbows?, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Tom's a really poor kid in this, Why do I always write the dark stuff, Wool's Orphanage (Harry Potter), World War II, Young Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27775930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fea2781/pseuds/Fea2781
Summary: God does not shine upon you.He could still remember the children that cuddled together in a useless attempt to keep themselves warm, dead the next day. You didn't even know who was dead, they all looked like corpses when they slept. Their chests barely heaving and their malnourished bodys mangled together.He remembered the dark basement where the feeling of watching eyes had never seemed to leave. Tom thought of the words Mrs. Cole had always told him in there."God does not shine upon you, Tom Riddle."... May all of them burn in hell...
Relationships: Harry Potter & Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70
Collections: Harry Potter





	What makes a monster

Being dead was cold, he decided. 

No matter what the old veteran that always came to the orphanage said. Tom still remembered those cold, harsh winters when food was a rare privilege and sleeping could mean freezing to death. The stone walls of the grey building weren't helping the loss of heat. 

He could still remember the children that cuddled together in a useless attempt to keep themselves warm, dead the next day. You didn't even know who was dead, they all looked like corpses when they slept. Their chests barely heaving and their malnourished bodys mangled together. 

He remembered the dark basement where the feeling of watching eyes had never seemed to leave. Tom thought of the words Mrs. Cole had always told him in there. 

"God does not shine upon you, Tom Riddle."

Their days were always the same. Listen to the adults, try to get food, work, and most importantly, _follow the rules._

You didn't want to break the rules. 

They were easy, in all honesty. 

1\. Don't make loud noises. 

Mrs. Cole, the head of the orphanage, had always had a knack for drinking. Her husband had cheated on her with some girl from the orphanage years ago, which was why she spent her nights drinking her sorrows away. She could be heard mumbling and screeching about the whore which had taken her husband from her, if you listened hard enough at night. And she somehow made it her mission to make the children's lifes a living hell. 

A girl named Annika had slept in another girls room. Their moans could be heard all across the hall. 

Loud enough to alert the children. 

And loud enough to alert Mrs. Cole. 

No one knew what happened afterwards for sure. They heard the head of the orphanage screaming about unholy behavior and sickness. The two girls had not been seen after that. Only two things happened afterwards: They all were to confess at the church the next day and the smell of blood in the basement. No one went down there to look at what made it smell like that. 

Some things were better left unknown. 

No child made unnecessary noise after sunset after that. 

2\. Never go out alone at night. 

Most children were aware of that rule, unfortunately, or fortunately for some, not everyone. Those that had been here longer knew of Mr. Wilson. He was always nice, mostly smiling and always gifted roses he plucked from the bushes to the girls of the orphanage. He wasn't particularly handsome, just some average 50 year old man. Everyone knew he liked the little children most. 

You heard the screaming of the girls he took at night. You didn't want to go out at night along with Wilson out there wandering around in the halls. No one did, especially since the man preferred such pretty, little, petite _children_ like Tom. He even saw it once. How Mr. Wilson pressed some drugged, screaming kid against the wall while he had his hands under her skirt. 

Mr. Wilson had an unspoken agreement with Mrs Cole. As she drank herself into oblivion, he'd listen to her ranting and she'd let him do whatever he wanted. Which was why Mr. Wilson had yet to be arrested and Mrs. Cole had not already been reported. 

Not that any of the children or the other staff were saints either. 

Milly, an actually _nice_ person, was just as poor as them. Her husband was in the military. They had two children together, but was quite sure none of them were from him. Milly had to sell her body while her husband was away, so it helped that both the men and Mr. Wilson had ash blond hair. 

Or Amy. Another girl had told her once that she was just as poor as them and that no, she wasn't as pretty as she thought she was. Amy locked her into the bathroom right as Mr. Wilson stumbled in. 

3\. Don't ask unnecessary questions

Tom and another child named Elias had gone to the market once. He had quite liked the boy, he didn't blabber or talk nonstop like the other children did. 

It was winter, again. The streets were painted white with the snow that was currently falling from the sky. The two walked in silence, shuddering under their thin layers of clothing while they were carrying a few boxes of beans. The streets weren't crowded, as few people were out at dusk. 

And then they heard sounds. It wasn't like Tom to be curious, but he followed after Elias as he decided to investigate. 

They found some man sitting on the ground. Tom's brain supplied that it was the man that always stood next to the front gate when chatting with Mrs. Cole. His name was Evan Jones. 

He was, at the moment, sitting next to the corpse of a woman, trying to saw off her arm with a kitchen knife. The woman had died from the cold or hunger, as they couldn't see any amount of blood. He wrapped the arm in a cloth and suddenly looked up to them with cold, animalistic eyes. 

They were running as fast as they could, trying to avoid the man as he came to their orphanage again. 

But why was he remembering all of this now? 

An old veteran, some uncle of Mrs. Cole, had someday decided to show up. Slowly, the children listened to his story,and, although reluctantly, Tom did too. 

The man told them about the conditions in Russia and the cold that almost freeze off your limbs. That it had him on the brink of death itself. It felt like sleeping, he said. Like falling asleep in a bath of warm honey and that, really, you see light at the end. You see your whole life flash before your eyes and then, well, your blood turns cold. 

"Wouldn't it be more beautiful to see your life flash before your eyes when you're alive?", some 8-year-old had asked. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Why do you need to die to relive your life?" 

No answer had come after that. 

And Tom, lying in that cold, dark street, had ceased trembling long ago. His skin was too pale to be healthy and black spots danced around his vision. 

He felt so, so hungry. 

His legs had given out a long time ago and no matter how many bystanders were walking near the alleyway, no one helped his dying frame. 

Those bastards were too busy with themselves, anyway. 

Tom Riddle would never, not in a thousand years say so and would deny it until his last breath (which didn't seem like it was far away), but he felt so, _so scared_. 

Tom didn't believe in God, (perhaps this was why he was in this situation) but he felt like whatever was up there, was staring smuggly down at them. God didn't like humans, he hated them, despised them even. Why should he love those which committed sins in his name? He didn't help demons or those fallen from grace. God tore their wings out and ripped them apart, so they may never reach paradise again. 

He had always been called a demon for the freakish things he could do and did. He had hung Billies rabbit from the ceiling and had done unspeakable things to Amy and Ben. And even if those should be his last moments, he didn't regret a thing. 

Heaven, if existing, wouldn't be an option for him. 

Is this karma? 

No, he may pay for his sins, but all others would pay too. Mrs. Cole, Mr. Wilson, the staff, the children and every one would face the judgement of the lord and rot in hell as well, he was sure of that. 

But it did not matter if he believed in God or not. Would it hurt? Would it feel like sleeping, like Mrs. Cole's uncle said? 

What did he do to deserve this, all of this? Why couldn't he have a family, someone to hold him in his arms to read him stories until he fell asleep?

But how could he ever? 

He'd never have a family, that was the cruel reality he had learned at the age of four. Mrs Cole made sure to never let him forget that. 

And even now, he remembered those cold, harsh words that were etched into his brain. 

" _God does not shine upon you, Tom Riddle_."

He couldn't even deny that, how sad. 

~~He felt so, so scared.~~

But then, he heard another voice. One sweet like velvet and honey. And footsteps, echoing through the alley. 

“‘You were the seal of perfection, full of wisdom and perfect in beauty.

You were in Eden,the garden of God;

every precious stone adorned you:

carnelian, chrysolite and emerald, topaz, onyx and jasper,lapis lazuli, turquoise and beryl. Your settings and mountings were made of gold; on the day you were created they were prepared. 

You were anointed as a guardian cherub, for so I ordained you.

You were on the holy mount of God;

you walked among the fiery stones.

You were blameless in your ways from the day you were created till wickedness was found in you.

Through your widespread trade you were filled with violence, and you sinned.

So I drove you in disgrace from the mount of God, and I expelled you, guardian cherub, from among the fiery stones.

Your heart became proud on account of your beauty, and you corrupted your wisdom because of your splendor.

So I threw you to the earth; I made a spectacle of you before kings.

Ezekiel 28: 11-17"

Tom looked up, finally. Emerald eyes stared back. And Tom felt like he saw an angel. 

The man's hair was pitch black and his eyes were gleaming. He couldn't be older than twenty-five. The man crouched down to the 9-year-olds frame and touched Tom's cheek. 

"God shines upon you, Tom Riddle."

_______________

Tom woke up in his bed. 

And he had no idea how he'd come here. 

He remembered laying in that alley after Mrs. Cole had kicked him out of the orphanage at night again. Tom remembered _dying_ , but he felt… _fine_. 

Well, fine was a little bit overrated. But, for the first time in _months_ , he didn't like keeling over from hunger and Tom felt like he had finally gotten a good night's sleep. So, fine for his standards. 

Then, he heard a knock on the door. 

"Tom, you have a visitor." Mrs Cole's voice spoke. It was strange. Usually, she barged in, woke him up and told him his chores. But, seemingly, not today. Next to the fact that Tom _never_ got any visitors. His mother was dead and his father, why should he want to see his son after 9 years of absence? Who would ever want to see the demon child Tom Riddle? 

Slowly, the door opened. 

Tom's blue eyes looked at the man. 

Emerald eyes stared back

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it.
> 
> Comments are, as always, appreciated.


End file.
